The things I would do for a cookie.

I have an hour break on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I spend it sitting in the hallway of the Union, usually freaking out about whatever test I have coming up or vaguely feeling sentimental because zomg my mommy totally sat here too!!!

Today, today was bad. There was a career fair in the ballroom. Despite the fact that this was generally disheartening to me as a.) I have no career, b.) probably will never have a career, c.) and we’re back on law school, d.) there are pretty people wearing tailored suits and that depresses me, and e.) WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN ALL THE CHAIRS PRETTY PEOPLE WITH TAILORED SUITS!?!?!

But much, much worse than this- there was a lunch room for the exhibitors. Right across from where I was sitting. A lovely lunch room filled with sandwiches! on croissants! and cookies! Oh, God, the cookies. Those of us plebeians who are working retail halfway through degree one of five and eating yogurt DO NOT APPRECIATE THIS.

Mary and I spent a good half an hour watching people go in and come out with beautiful free sandwiches. I never understood those flyers that people would thrust into my hand as I was walking to the bus, advertising whatever movie/concert/talk/orgy was going on this week and then at the end it said free food! “Pssh,” I would scoff. “As though I am immature enough to be bought with the promise of free food.”

Oh. Oh, no. There were guys leaving that room with cookies. And several times I thought to myself, “Meh, he’s not hideous. I would do almost anything if he’d bring me a sandwich.” Worse still were the women who would saunter their lovely little size-two selves out with MY COOKIES. As though they needed the cookies. They probably haven’t eaten a cookie in two years. They cannot enjoy the cookies. THEY DO NOT DESERVE THE COOKIES.

“Wait. Are you still on this?” Steve pondered. Um. Yeah. Welcome to life.

Then Colleen showed up and offered to take her clothes off and give them an exhibition, because she really didn’t want to buy lunch.

P.S. I’d like you all to ignore the fact that my sister, my friend, and I all just offered various degrees of prostitution for sandwiches. Because it’s not that flattering.

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